


Tales from the Steam-Powered Lands

by Just_another_cog_in_the_machine



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Steampunk, M/M, Retelling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:08:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27249313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Just_another_cog_in_the_machine/pseuds/Just_another_cog_in_the_machine
Summary: Steel, steam and a lot of idiots.{I wont update it sowwy now the au is in drabbles}
Relationships: Timothy Lawrence/Rhys
Kudos: 6





	Tales from the Steam-Powered Lands

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Tales from the Steam-Powered Lands](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/706408) by Ризотка Дурачок (me but russian). 



> (English is not my native language, but i'm trying!)  
> (I'll add more tags later)
> 
> LEM THANK YOU FOR SAVING MY MISERABLE LIVE AND MY MISERABLE WORK

"Here we fucking go..." Timothy gets up — And no, not from a bed. There is just a bunch of blankets on the floor in his workshop. He made this 'nest' just in case he falls asleep on the floor... again. And again, the reason why he managed to wake up is the sound of his neighbour's cockerel. Honestly, Tim is glad for that. Before she bought a cockerel, Tim used an alarm. And he broke it every morning, and wasted time fixing it. But he can't break a cockerel! Well, at least he has to get to it first to break the poor bird's neck, so the fresh morning air wakes him up completely. Tim curses silently - his back hurts. Yep, sleeping on the floor is bad. Аnd drinking this terrible tea is bad too. Well... only a person without tastebuds would call this overconcentrated piss a tea. But it helps to stay awake, and that's all Tim needs. Coffee is too expensive anyway. And it's disgusting!

Getting up, Tim accidentally breaks a cup, but doesn't notice it. Barely awake, he just goes straight to his workdesk. A mechanic hand is laying there, almost finished. And just looking at it hurts. It was supposed to be a part of his greatest project, and a childhood dream... That never came true. The books that inspired it are just collecting dust now and so does the unfinished automaton. There is some lumberjack who just lost a hand and needs a replacement, and Tim needs money. The technician hates himself a little for being so happy with it - he is literally happy that dude lost his hand! 7am — the clock says, and his handless customer will show up at nine. Timothy thinks that he should finally get rid of all these cups on the floor, but never does it.

There is a ringing sound tearing through the deep darkness of his fatigue, and then Timothy jumps up abruptly when he is shaken by the shoulder. "WH ... I-I'm NOT SLEEPING...!" says Lawrence, rising quickly from the table. The customer, whose name Tim has forgotten, grins at the mechanic. "I'm sorry I broke into the workshop uninvited, but I knocked on your door and almost broke it. You look even worse than usual."  
"Yes, Yes, it's good to see you, too." The mechanic tries hard to pretend that he slept good this night, but instead of grabbing the prosthesis he knocks over another mug, which was fortunately empty. Timothy had fallen asleep after he finished working on the hand, and now he can just set it in its place. This is only a prosthetic hand, so only a pair of strings and attachment to the bone will be needed to control it. In normal conditions, all this would be done in one hospital, but the local "village" hospital only installed a mount on the wound, and the patients need to go to the mechanic for the rest. Which is funny, to the same person who made these mounts. So Tim doesn't worry too much about his sleepiness - even in this state, he knows where and what he should do, since this hand is his own work. Lawrence is happy to help someone, but also clearly upset that he is giving up part of a failed dream. The last pair of bolts - the technician's movements are steady and precise, as if he himself is some kind of automaton. But even their eyes are not as empty as his.

After a few minutes, the customer leaves, and Timothy thoughtfully counts the money left for his work. A good work. Thoughts creep into his head that he should have made things worse. Then people would have to come back more often to fix them again... "Tim, no." He says wearily to himself. The world is already full of assholes. Didn't he want to make the world a better place when he was a child, reading another fantastic book from the old library? Lost in his memories, the mechanic froze, staring at the wall.

Hiding from his grandmother, as well as the pranks of a much less diligent brother, he was heading to the quietest place in the world. Well, the whole world for little Timothy was limited to this village, so he could say so. There were not as many books in this library as he would like, but new ones were brought from the city periodically. It was the only holiday Tim ever had - when he found something interesting among the two or three new books. Science fiction was his favorite. He really wanted to believe that one day there would be underwater cities and ships, as well as robots that could not only barely move their ugly pathetic claws, but sing and talk. In one book, those automatons had to fight.

Young Lawrence was really impressed by two illustrations, between which, it would seem, were only two pages - here was a mechanical group singing, dancing, they were doing what they love - and then they had to forget about it, and take up arms.  
He remembered sharing this with Jack once: "Awful, isn't it? I would never made them fight." His twin just laughed at such empathy. "You're an idiot, Tim. It's just some brass! That's what they are for, just to be expendable assets, not to sing or whatever you said they were doing. Anyway, it's just a book. A piece of paper! How do you find this interesting?" Timothy just sighed. "You might be right..."

Snapped out of his reverie by the doorbell once again, Lawrence in our time almost drops the newly filled mug of water from his hands — hell, he didn't even notice that he took and filled it! He needs sleep, sleep, sleep... But first. - "Mail!" Oh, Yes. The mail arrived today. A couple of envelopes slip through the opening in the door, and to Tim's surprise, one of them clearly doesn't look like bills even from a distance. Picking up the crumpled envelope, Timothy chokes on water, just from seeing a shitty and painfully familiar handwriting. It really is painful - from trying to understand this bullshit, his head immediately begins to ache even more.

Jack Lawrence. Pandora city.

"Fuck this shit, i'm out." Tim throws the letter back on the floor as in hope that it would disappear when he wakes up, and goes to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first chapter that is just to introduce you to this world. It will get more interesting later!


End file.
